A sharp crack rang through the council hall—violent, abrupt, and echoing off the high stone walls like a whip. Owen stared down at the shattered porcelain cup in his bleeding hand. Shards were embedded deep in his palm, crimson trickling down his wrist and staining the polished wooden table. But he neither shook off the pain nor reached for a cloth. His bloodshot gaze was fixed tightly on the middle-aged noble across from him.
His voice was hoarse, as if dragged through gravel.
"Is that… truly what the Marquis said?"
The man opposite him—Geller—was impeccably dressed. His clothes were embroidered with gold thread, his small mustache neatly shaped, and his posture almost lazily elegant. He radiated the calm confidence of someone long accustomed to luxury and power. He did not immediately answer. Instead, he lifted his porcelain cup and took a slow sip of red tea, savoring the aroma before finally speaking.
"The Marquis has been consumed with handling affairs in Storm Territory," Geller said lightly. "He has no time, nor interest, to involve himself further in your matters."
The words were calm, but each syllable struck like a hammer.
"Besides," Geller continued, swirling the tea, "the Marquis has supported you plenty. More than enough, in fact. He even helped you by arranging contact with assassins from the Starfire Church. With such aid, your situation should never have deteriorated to this point."
His eyes sharpened, his tone cutting.
"Yet here you are—brought to ruin by two inexperienced brats. The nobles outside laugh at you, Baron. Do you understand that?"
Owen's temples throbbed violently. Rage surged through him, rising like boiling water, but he swallowed it back with great difficulty. Losing control before this man—before the Marquis's envoy—was unthinkable.
Still, inwardly, he was burning.
How?
How had everything spiraled downward so unpredictably?
In less than two years, the two brothers from Blackstone City had transformed their barren little territory into something formidable. And the magus—formerly a useless youth incapable of mastering the Breathing Method—had suddenly risen to power, becoming a true wizard and even killing Martel.
It made no sense.
None of it made sense.
If he'd known things would evolve this way, he would never have tolerated their existence for even a day. He should have killed them openly—reputation be damned.
But it was too late to regret that now.
Unless the Gold Rock Marquis sent troops, Owen had no way to hold Shining City. His forces were far too depleted. Even if by some miracle he managed to keep the city, his title of Shimmer Baron would mean little—an empty shell without real authority.
He inhaled deeply, forcing the frustration back down where it churned and boiled.
At last, he said, "Geller, if the Marquis is displeased with me, he may punish me however he wishes. I will not complain. But if Shanguang Territory falls into another's hands, the Marquis will lose control of this region entirely. Is he truly prepared to abandon Shanguang Territory?"
Geller's half-smile never wavered.
He looked at Owen as one might look at a child failing to grasp something obvious.
"You need not concern yourself with that," he replied. "Even if Shanguang Territory changes hands, the Marquis will reclaim it personally later."
Owen froze.
That… implied something staggering.
Was the Gold Rock Marquis going to cast aside the unspoken rules of the Duchy and seize territories belonging to other nobles? Such a move would send shockwaves through the noble class. The entire Duchy would unite against him. Even the Marquis could not bear the consequences of the nobles' collective wrath.
Unless—
Unless the Marquis had a way to make the Duchy's nobles ignore such an action.
A chill crept down Owen's spine.
"What does the envoy mean by that?" he asked carefully.
Geller waved a hand dismissively.
"You do not need to understand."
He set his cup down with a soft clink and leaned back leisurely in his chair.
"Though you have failed quite spectacularly, the Marquis is merciful. In consideration of your past service, he has ordered me to bring you out of Shining City. From today onward, you may live peacefully as a manor lord in Melbourne City."
The blood drained from Owen's face.
From Baron to minor landholder?
The difference was enormous—almost humiliating beyond measure.
But what choice did he have? Stay, and he would surely die with Shining City.
Geller sipped his tea again, watching Owen's emotional turmoil with cold amusement. By now, he was certain Owen would accept. There simply was no other road left open for him.
Before the Baron could respond, hurried footsteps sounded from outside. A clerk burst into the chamber, breathless. He opened his mouth to speak, but when his eyes swept over Geller and the cloaked man seated silently near him, he faltered.
Owen snapped impatiently,
"Speak!"
The clerk bowed quickly.
"My lord, scouts report that the Blackstone City army is five kilometers outside the city. They will reach the gates within the hour."
Owen shot to his feet, unable to hide the panic twisting his features.
"How did they arrive so quickly?!"
He immediately realized his error, forced the terror down, and straightened his expression.
"Send my orders—Dario is to defend the city with everything he has. Not a single soldier from Blackstone City is allowed to step through our gates!"
The clerk bowed and rushed out.
Owen turned back to Geller, his voice low and urgent.
"Envoy, I agree. I will go to Melbourne City with you."
Geller smiled politely.
"A wise choice."
Owen bowed deeply.
"Please wait a moment. I must have my belongings packed immediately."
Even in flight, he would not leave behind his wealth. Becoming a manor lord required land—and land required coin. With the city on the brink of invasion, he had to move quickly.
To avoid offending Geller, Owen stepped closer and discreetly pressed a small leather pouch of gold into the envoy's hand.
Geller weighed it with a subtle, satisfied smile.
"There is no need to hurry, Baron. With Hodge here, we can leave this place safely even if the Blackstone City army surrounds Shining City."
Owen blinked in surprise and glanced at the cloaked man. From the moment they entered the hall, the man—Hodge—had sat silently, motionless, like a shadow at rest. Owen had assumed he was merely Geller's guard.
But from Geller's tone, Hodge's status seemed no less than his own.
"Who exactly is Hodge…?"
He was about to inquire further when a sudden disturbance erupted outside the hall. Shouts, clashing steel, and—most unsettling—screams.
Owen stiffened.
Before he could call for his guards, Hodge rose from his seat in one fluid, predatory motion.
His voice was low but sharp.
"Something's wrong. Those aren't battle cries. They're death screams. Assassins."
Assassins?
Owen felt a wave of disbelief.
How could any assassin infiltrate his mansion, which was guarded by elite soldiers, especially when the Blackstone City army was still kilometers away?
However…
He soon realized the question no longer mattered.
The sounds of combat surged closer—then abruptly stopped.
Silence fell upon the council hall like a heavy, suffocating shroud.
A single set of footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Slowly, a figure stepped into the hall.
Owen's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, pupils constricting in terror.
"You…!"
The newcomer stepped fully into the torchlight.
A young man. Calm. Cold. His presence oppressive despite his ordinary build.
The magus.
The very wizard from Blackstone City who had become the center of every rumor. The one who had risen from useless nobody to nightmare in human shape.
Even Geller straightened in his chair, interest sparking in his eyes.
So this was him.
The magus let his gaze drift across the room—over Owen, over Geller—and finally paused on Hodge. His lips curled slightly.
His voice was lazy, mocking, yet filled with sharp intent.
"It seems I arrived at just the right time. Are the three of you deciding how to run away?"
The words dropped into the hall like stones into deep water.
And none of the three men dared move.
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